


all i want for christmas (is you)

by daisylincs



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: (I blame Kat), Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Musical, Christmas Musical, Daisy Johnson Is A Good Singer, Deke Shaw Is A Good Singer, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Feels, Gift Fic, Romance, Secret Santa Fic, Singing, Unexpected Feels, a little family of good singers, aos secret santa, but then Deke and Daisy went all emotional on me, honestly this was supposed to be just fluff and singing, it's very sweet, they're all good singers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28228455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisylincs/pseuds/daisylincs
Summary: Daisy JohnsonhatesDeke Shaw. So when he's forced to step in as her co-lead in Shieldton High's annual Christmas musical, it's basically her worst nightmare come to life... except when it isn't anymore.
Relationships: Deke Shaw/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14
Collections: Agents of SHIELD Secret Santa 2020





	all i want for christmas (is you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_norse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_norse/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, Stan! Hope you enjoy the Dekesy content as much as I did writing it xD
> 
> A big thank you to the amazing @maybebrilliant for making my words better with her beta job 🥰 Love you, May!! And due credit to Mariah Carey for the titling and several musical inspirations through the fic 😝😍

Daisy tapped her fingers against the smooth wood of the school's stage, biting her lip as she glanced down at her watch. _Ten past two._

It wasn't like Trip to be late, let _alone_ more than ten minutes late. Usually - in fact, every single day up until now - if Mr Coulson told them to arrive fifteen minutes early, Trip was there fifteen minutes early right along with Daisy. 

The doors banged open, letting in a flurry of cold air. Daisy glanced up, her face breaking into a smile at the sight of Mr Coulson, their director of music… but the smile faded fast as she processed how uncharacteristically solemn Mr Coulson looked. 

"As I'm sure you've noticed, our co-lead, Antoine Triplett, hasn't arrived for rehearsals yet," he said, and his voice was solemn as he looked around the room, meeting the whole cast's eyes in turn. "Well, we just found out why. He's been in an accident." 

Daisy gasped out loud, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. _Trip?_ It didn't seem _possible…_ oh, God, please let it not be possible… 

"Don't worry," Mr Coulson said as though he could sense the direction of her thoughts, "he's okay. Well, _okay_ is a relative term, but he's still with us." 

Daisy could breathe again, the tight knot in her chest easing a little. 

Mr Coulson went on, his eyes serious, "However, he's _not_ unhurt, and he's currently in the hospital being treated for a broken arm and collarbone." 

Whispers of shock and sympathy rippled through the assembled cast members, and Daisy caught Jemma's gaze over Mack's shoulder. _Poor Trip,_ her friend mouthed, her eyes full of compassion. 

Daisy nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. _I hope he'll be okay,_ she mouthed back in reply. 

Similar conversations, both soundless and very audible, were taking place through the room - but one voice rose above them, crisp and clear. 

"Excuse me, sir," it said, and Daisy immediately recognised Bobbi's cool, straight-to-the-point tones. "But who will be taking Trip's place as the co-lead?" 

An instant hush fell over the room as the assembled students realised, one by one, and with an awful finality, that if there was no co-lead to take on the starring role beside Daisy, there could be no Christmas musical for Shieldton High. 

Mr Coulson passed a hand over his brow, his stress evident in the lines etched onto his forehead. "Thank you, Bobbi," he said. "An excellent question." 

"And one that we've managed to answer," a new voice said, clipped and businesslike. _Ms May._

Right on cue, their choreographer appeared in the door of the school hall, her arms folded in her signature stance. "We've managed to find someone to fill Trip's role," she said, stepping aside with a curt nod. 

The person who had been standing behind her stepped fully into the room… and Daisy's world ground to a halt. 

_Him._

She was up on her feet, crying out a _"what?!?!"_ before she could stop herself. 

Ms May's attention snapped to her, and she fixed Daisy with a particularly sharp glare. "Is there a problem, Miss Johnson?" she asked crisply. 

Was there a problem. Was there a _problem?!_

Deke Shaw - because that was who had stepped out from behind Ms May, looking about as happy to be here as she was to see him - was basically the human definition of a _problem._

He was annoying, and immature, and a double-crossing little _snake,_ not to mention the biggest pain in her ass she had ever had the misfortune of interacting with. 

No way - no way in _hell -_ was she starring in a Christmas musical alongside _him_. 

"I'm sorry, Ms May," she said, and her voice was almost as sharp as May's own. "But there most definitely _is_ a problem." 

Ms May's lips thinned. "Well, I'm afraid you're just going to have to put it aside, whatever it is," she said, in a tone that brooked no argument. 

Daisy argued regardless. "But, ma'am, surely there's someone - _anyone_ \- else we can use?" 

Ms May shook her head, crisp and final. "There isn't. Believe me, we checked." She held Daisy's gaze for a moment, and Daisy's heart shrivelled a little bit when she saw cool disappointment in her teacher's gaze. 

"You, Miss Johnson," Ms May said, "need to decide which is more important to you - the school's Christmas musical, or whatever feud you have with Shaw." 

Daisy clenched her fists, but her heart was fluttering uncomfortably in her chest. Working with _Deke Shaw_ was just about the most despicable thing she could think of, but… she couldn't miss the Shieldton High Christmas musical, not for the world. 

This production - these people - this was the only place where she had ever felt at home, where she had _fit in._

The thought of spending another Christmas by herself, chilly under grey blankets in the orphanage, staring dully into a cup of cold, crappy coffee as people laughed and sang on the snowy streets below her window… no. She couldn't. The Shieldton High Christmas musical was the closest thing she had ever had to home, and she was _not_ giving it up. Not even for Deke Shaw. 

Gritting her teeth so hard that her jaw actually hurt, she gave May - and Deke behind her - a sharp nod. "Fine," she said. "I'll work with him." 

//

Two minutes in, and Daisy was already regretting her decision. Deke was proving to be everything she had thought, and dreaded, he would be - immature, annoying, and above all, someone who could _not_ be relied on. 

For starters, he barely even _glanced_ at the script he was handed - and _then,_ as Coulson and May started to go over the choreography of the first piece, he wasted their time pulling long-suffering faces at someone outside the window.

It was indisputably clear that he couldn’t care _less_ about the musical, or whether or not he succeeded. 

And the more time passed, the _worse_ it got. It was like he didn’t have _ears_ to listen to what May was saying to him, or else he was so focused on himself and his own agenda that he didn’t give a damn what any of them were doing.

Daisy felt herself growing steadily more and more furious as the rehearsal drew on and on, until finally, five minutes from the end, she couldn’t take it anymore. 

_“DEKE SHAW!”_ she exploded, hurling down her script and storming across the stage to grab him by the shoulders, giving him a hard shake.

He stumbled back a step, eyes widening. “Johnson?” 

“You _bet,”_ she snarled, stepping right up into his space and glaring ferociously at him. 

An odd kind of hush had fallen over the rehearsal hall, as though every single cast member and teacher was thinking _oh, dear God…_ but also wondering what would happen next.

Deke looked around, taking in the deadly silence that had fallen, and swallowed audibly. 

“I don’t know what the _hell_ you think you’re doing,” Daisy said, jabbing him in the chest with one finger. His gaze snapped back to meet hers. “But whatever it is, it ends _now,_ or you’re _out_.” 

He regained some of his swagger at that, shaking her fingers off and folding his arms. “Yeah, no,” he said coolly. “Ms May had to beg me to come on. Said I was the only person who could possibly do it.” 

There was a muffled crashing sound in the back of the hall, as though something heavy had fallen over, likely as a result of being kicked by a furious Asian choreographer. Deke winced. “Alright, she didn’t beg,” he admitted, giving the back of the hall a quick, wary look. “But still. You don’t have a choice here.” 

“But _you_ do,” Daisy countered, her tone not an _inch_ less harsh. “For maybe the first time in your pathetic, miserable little life, you have the chance to be a part of something bigger than yourself. To have people rely on you, and trust you, and _care_ about you and what you do.” 

He opened his mouth, and, sensing another smart retort, she went straight for the kill - 

“And I _know_ you’ve never had that, _Deke Shaw,_ because I’ve seen the hellhole you come from.” 

Deke went white, struck completely speechless for a moment. 

“Right opposite the street from the hellhole _I_ come from,” she said, raising her voice when he opened his mouth to snarl something right back at her. “So I _know_ you’ve never had that. And I _know_ you’re throwing away the chance to have it now, and why the hell _anyone_ would do that is completely beyond me, because -” She paused to draw breath, jabbing her finger sharply into his ribs again “- these people are the _best_ friends you could _ever_ hope to meet, no matter how long you stay at Shieldton.” 

She turned around, pointing sharply at the first person she saw. “You see her? That’s Jemma Simmons, the kindest and most compassionate - and also one of the smartest - souls you’ll ever encounter. That’s Leo Fitz, her boyfriend and smarts twin, and the most loyal friend you can ever hope for.” 

She turned a little further, pointing to the next two cast members in line. “That’s Bobbi Morse, the biggest badass after Ms May. And that’s _her_ boyfriend Hunter, the sarcastic dumbass we all love, and who’d do _anything_ for a friend.” 

She paused for a quick breath, then went on. “That’s Mack, who has the biggest heart of anyone I know - and not just, you know, physically. Elena, his girlfriend, is the queen of sass, and _justice_. _”_

“And these people took me in,” she finished, feeling a flood of warmth rise in her despite the fury still bubbling in her stomach. “They gave me something to believe in, and work for, and showed me how to believe in _myself._ They also showed me that people _can_ care about me, even if we are just on the cast of the same musical.” 

_“And they’d be willing to do that for you too,”_ she said urgently, sweeping her hand around the room to prove her point. “They’d let you in, and let you be a part of something special, a part of a _group,_ truly, for the first time in your life.” 

“But not if you destroy the thing we all love,” she finished, her voice as hard and cold as ice. “Not if you go out of your way to ruin this for us.” 

She turned back to look properly at Deke, and her gaze was utter, cold contempt. “You could have it all, Shaw,” she said. “But you’d throw it away instead.” 

And before Deke could say another word, she turned and stormed out of the hall.

//

Daisy was still _furious_ by the time the next rehearsal rolled around, and not even Jemma’s soft words, sympathetic smiles and Jaffa-Cakes-slipped-to-her-under-the-table could cheer her up. (Jaffa Cakes, by the way, were a kind of British cookie with chocolate and orange jelly, and the one and only reason Daisy would ever move to England.) 

She was also, though she wouldn’t admit it, sick to her stomach. She had ranted to Deke, but she had also accidentally bared her heart to him - showed him just how much the Shieldton musical and its cast meant to her.

And so doing, she had also shown him how much it would hurt her if it couldn’t go on.

Because it _would_ hurt her, it really would - it would hurt her like nothing else. Sure, she’d still have her friends from the cast, and it wasn’t like they’d ditch her just like that (they were far too decent people to ever do anything like that) but… if the musical didn’t go on, she wouldn’t have the _guarantee_ of seeing them, and of staying in contact with them all.

They were all so busy, and they had their own lives… Losing touch would be far, _far_ too easy.

And if that ever happened, even if it was with so much as _one_ of her fellow cast members, Daisy would be shattered.

Thing was, she had never had anything _remotely_ like this closeness, this feeling of… _family._ The foster family she was with now, for example, had only kept her so long because the only nice sister at the orphanage - Sister Margaret - had sent them a large cheque on Daisy’s behalf, so she could stay near her friends a little longer.

But that would all be a moot point if the musical was cancelled.

Heavily, Daisy pushed Jemma’s arm away when her friend tapped her knee under the lunch table. Not even Jaffa Cakes could cheer her up now. 

She had been to see Trip in hospital yesterday, and, after hugging him for as long as the nurses would let her, determined to herself that there was really no way he would be able to return to the musical in time. He needed at _least_ six weeks to heal up, probably more (she was no doctor after all) and, by the time he could sing and dance again, Christmas would be long over.

She had felt incredibly selfish for even thinking of that when he was hurt like this, but, well. She couldn’t _help_ it.

Trip, sweetest soul in the world that he was, had picked up on that, and had told her in his gentle but firm way, “C’mon, girl, you know you can tell me anything.” 

And so she had.

When she was done, he had smiled at her, his eyes soft but full of compassion. “I don’t think it’s quite so bad,” he’d said. “You’re not giving this Deke enough credit.” 

She had given him a _look,_ but he had pressed, “I’m serious, D. See what’s up at tomorrow’s rehearsal.” 

She had promised she would, but now, sitting here, she just felt… empty.

She was going to lose the thing that meant most to her in the world.

 _And,_ she thought with a sudden and venomous insight, _it’ll all be Deke Shaw’s fault._

As if she hadn’t hated him enough as it was! 

Daisy took her position on stage - perched on a chair on top of the choir benches, to simulate a windowsill - still feeling hot coils of rage simmering low in her belly. Not even the first tinkly chimes of Mariah Carey’s _All I Want For Christmas_ was enough to cool her anger - though, it did give her a way to channel that righteous fury into the best damn performance she’d ever give.

Traditionally, Shieldton High’s Christmas musical was a jukebox mashup of all the most popular Christmastime songs, with some kind of feel-good, Hallmark-esque romantic storyline woven in. _This_ year, Mr Coulson - their playwright and director - had thought it might be “dope,” in his words, to start _in medias res,_ which is to say, _in the middle of things._ So the narrative kicked off in what would generally be the _penultimate_ scene of any rom-com - with the love interests just about to start the big apology/reconciliation scene.

Daisy’s character was to be sitting on her windowsill, her head pillowed on her hand as she watched the snowflakes fall outside her bedroom’s cutesy pink-and-white curtains (the props courtesy of Fitz’s mum) and generally being heartbroken over losing her love interest.

Once the tinkles had faded, and the audience taken stock of the scene, she was to start singing a melancholy, acoustic version of the first verse of _All I Want For Christmas -_

 _I don’t want a lot for Christmas,_  
_There’s just one thing I need,_  
_I don’t care about the presents,_  
_Underneath the Christmas tree..._

As her voice trailed away, Daisy leaned her cheek a little more mournfully against her hand, a wave of very real melancholia washing over her as she processed that this might very well be the last time she got to act this scene.

From her altered position, though, she could see the stack of chairs that represented her house’s front porch and door - and to her utter surprise and amazement, Deke was _there,_ his hand raised like he was about to knock.

Well, she’d be damned. He’d actually _read his script!_

Next, just like the script dictated, he took a tiny step back, lowering his raised fist and shaking his head. 

He looked, Daisy thought with something that bordered on being impressed, the very picture of the Hallmark hero, with his grey eyes cast soulfully to the audience like that.

Slowly, uncertainly, he started to sing, a poignant echo of Daisy’s verse -

 _I don’t want a lot for Christmas,_  
_There’s just one thing I need,_  
_I don’t care about the presents,_  
_Underneath the Christmas tree..._

Her mouth dropped open of its own accord as, for the first time, she heard his _voice._

What. The. Actual. _Hell._

Deke Shaw could _sing._

No matter how much she hated his guts - because, _boy_ , did she ever still hate him - she had to give him that. He could damn well sing. 

And, she noticed when they entered into the next section (where the two love interests sang the chorus in a soft, longing duet, for the purposes of the musical not realising they were singing it together) their voices worked _really_ well together. 

He was the deeper, more melodic baritone, and she was the quirkier, sweeter mezzosoprano - but their voices blended and harmonised almost effortlessly, and together they just… _worked._

_I just want you for my own,_  
_More than you could ever know_  
**__**_Make my wish come true…_

The next moment, Daisy’s character was supposed to look down from her window, see Deke’s, and have that slow, wondrous, classically rom-com ‘oh my god it’s _you’_ moment. The music slowed, and, when they had their props in order, tiny sparkles would be falling amongst the snowflakes to give that sense of _amazement_ as their gazes connected.

What actually happened in that moment was… a lot less magical. 

Deke met Daisy’s gaze, the requisite awed and hopeful look in his eyes - but she couldn’t bring herself to return it.

Good singer (and actor) or no, this was still _Deke Shaw,_ still the person who had almost made her lose everything, and still the person who had sold her out so badly that day at CompSci fair. 

One (admittedly good) verse of a song didn’t change that, and he needed to be _absolutely_ clear on that.

So instead of a dreamy, romantic stare, she levelled him with her most scorching glare.

He took a visible step back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed, hard - but fortunately for them both, the step-back was, in fact, in script. 

Hunter, their narrator, came on with a large, red-and-green calendar, which he raised up high (Daisy and Deke’s cue to both freeze in their positions.) Then, slowly but clearly, Hunter flipped the calendar back, once, twice, three times, four, and then letting them whirl past in a blur of pages. 

_Two weeks ago,_ he started singing on the tune of The Twelve Days of Christmas. _Two weeks ago…_

The rest of the cast and background singers, Daisy and Deke included, joined in at the next repetition -

 _Two weeks ago,_  
_Two weeks ago!_

Hunter started flipping his calendar faster, and, in motions that may or may not have been inspired by the _Rewind_ scene in Hamilton, the entire cast danced backwards where they stood, resetting the stage as they went to something resembling a supermarket.

There, Daisy - whose character was now doing her Christmas shopping - started to sing _This Time Of The Year._

And so the meet-cute began. 

And so the rehearsal went on, until the infamous _scene 42_ which, after one look between Deke and Daisy, Coulson made the motion to skip. 

All in all, and much to Daisy’s surprise, it hadn’t been… _bad._

Sure, she hadn’t quite portrayed the gooey-in-love heart eyes of a classic Hallmark girl, but she and Deke _had_ managed to get through all their songs. Which was, already, _so_ much more than she had been expecting today.

 _You were right, Trip,_ she thought with a rueful grin as she gathered up her script and notes. _Thanks, buddy._

And as she left the hall and passed Deke fiddling with his jacket outside the door, she stopped for long enough to give him a quick, curt nod. 

And for once, he didn’t smirk at her, or snipe at her with a pointed comment - he nodded back, his grey-green eyes unusually serious.

For a single, traitorous second, she was floored - the _earnestness_ theregave his gaze a whole new level of depth, and somehow made their colour stand out just that bit more. 

It was… she wouldn't call it _attractive,_ not even in this uncharacteristic moment of weakness, but it did… _do_ something for him.

Almost like… well, it was almost like a hint that, somewhere deep down, he _wasn't_ such a crappy person, after all. 

_Come on, no,_ she thought, shaking her head at herself. _Nice eyes or not, it’s still Deke Shaw._

She couldn’t help but feel the tiniest hint of warmth towards him, though - he really had been good today, even if she would never admit it to his (or anyone’s) face.

And, no, this didn’t fix things between them, not by a long shot.

But it was a step in the right direction. 

//

And, whether she could believe it herself or not, those little steps continued on with every rehearsal. For whatever reason, Deke was _trying_ now - actually giving himself to the music, and making an effort to do it well. 

It showed.

And just like they had done for her, her friends started to accept him, too.

It was gradual, at first. Slow. But it started to show in the little things - Hunter smirking at Deke’s jokes, Mack clapping him on the shoulder on the way past. Jemma offered him some of her prized Jaffa Cakes once (and after that he followed her around like a love-struck puppy for three weeks.) And Bobbi, one week, took the step of inviting him along to their post-rehearsal hamburgers and chips.

She could see how it was affecting Deke - _positively_ affecting him. For example, he’d go a little red when Bobbi teasingly complimented his choice of lemonade, the tiny flicker of delighted surprise in his eyes all too easy for Daisy to read. Or, once, when he’d just had a snark-session with Elena, she caught him shaking his head slowly, his gaze full of wonder - wonder that he was _actually_ being welcomed here, being accepted.

She knew the feeling far too well. 

And as for _her_ and him… well, she wouldn’t go as far as to say she was _warming_ to him, but… something Jemma had said to her once, when she had been struggling to let go of mistrustful habits formed by years and years of looking out only for herself, was repeating in her mind now.

 _The steps you take don’t have to be big,_ Jemma had said, _they just need to take you in the right direction._

The right direction. 

Well, for Daisy, the right direction would always be towards Shieldton High, and specifically towards its musical - so the fact that he was _trying_ in that aspect, and that her friends were recognising that and letting him try with _them,_ too - it meant a lot. 

The other part of Jemma’s quote was very important to her, too - it meant that she, Daisy, didn’t have to start going gaga over Deke immediately. She could let them stay at their cautious-acquaintance level for as long as she needed, because, after all, that was _already_ a step in the right direction. (Well… it wasn’t screaming at him at the top of her lungs at the end of a rehearsal and then storming off in a blind rage, at any rate.)

She was mulling this over one night when they had stayed particularly late at a rehearsal (The Date, as Ms May liked to remind them, was coming up) when she, quite literally, ran into Deke outside. 

“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry,” Deke said immediately, going a little pale, his eyes widening. 

She crossed her arms, considering him, and everything that had just been running through her mind. 

And she said… “It’s okay.” 

Deke blinked. Then almost smirked, a definite smugness making its way into his gaze, before he seemed to realise himself. Yelping, he clapped a hand over his mouth, giving her a puppy-dog apologetic look with huge, pleading eyes.

Despite herself, Daisy grinned at his antics, the corner of her mouth quirking up. 

Dropping his hand, Deke grinned too, something in his gaze turning very soft. “Daisy?” he asked, and she didn’t think she had ever heard his voice quite like this before. Quite this… _sincere._

“Yeah?” she asked, crossing her arms a little tighter - but not in an _I’m-mad-at-you_ way; more of a… _Ms-May-is-my-hero-and-I-will-stand-like-her-or-die_ way.

Deke, she thought, understood the distinction. 

He cleared his throat, dropping his gaze to the floor, and when he looked back up at her, his gray-green eyes were serious.

To her consternation, Daisy’s heart did a funny little skipping thing in her chest. _Darn it._ The earnest expression really _did_ things for him, what the hell!

Fortunately, he seemed oblivious to her inner skipping shenanigans, holding her gaze with that serious, sincere look prominent in his eyes. “I owe you an apology,” he told her, “and a thank-you.” 

Daisy unfolded her arms, unconsciously relaxing her stance a little, opening it up just slightly. “Why’s that?” she asked, taken aback and more than a little curious. 

Deke coughed. “Well, um.” He coughed again. “Because I haven’t always been… the most decent to you.” 

Daisy arched her eyebrows, but decided to play it deliberately obtuse. “Really? You weren’t that terrible the last few weeks. I mean, yeah, we’ve got to work on your C sharp, but -” 

_“Daisy,”_ he interrupted, rolling his eyes and groaning despite himself. “Come on. I’m trying to be _decent_ here.”

“Well, go ahead,” she said, the corner of her mouth ticking up again.

Taking a deep breath, he did just that. 

“I haven’t always… I haven’t, ever, needed to look out for anyone but myself,” he began. Ducking his head a little awkwardly, he made a wry motion with his hands. “You know exactly what I mean; you went through it too. Though…” and here he glanced up at her, his eyes all _sincere_ again - “you did handle it a lot better than I did.” 

“Lighthouse Orphanage is one of the worst ones, though, from what I’ve heard,” she said, her voice coming out a lot gentler than either of them had been expecting.

“I mean, yeah, it definitely is,” Deke agreed, his gaze frank. “But I also don’t really get to use that as an excuse; not when you were also in a really crap orphanage, and you turned out _this_ amazing.” 

Her cheeks heated. _“Deke.”_

“I’m serious!” he protested. “You really did turn out pretty… pretty darn amazing. I already knew that when I was partnered with you for CompSci fair.” 

He bit his lip, and, without properly realising, she bit hers too. They were getting into the really deep, dirty territory here.

“I knew it was a low blow to sell you out, when we were both the only orphanage kids, and we’d been lumped together against our wills,” he continued. “But I really… I really didn’t have anyone else to think of beside myself, then. Releasing your code to the other team got me in Dominic Kasius’s good books, and I couldn’t afford to waste that kind of social currency.” 

She had figured all of that out, of course. 

But that still didn’t make it _okay._

“That doesn’t make it _okay,_ though,” Deke said, unknowingly echoing her thoughts exactly. “And what I did afterwards was… even less okay. I, uh -” 

“Acted like you hadn’t done anything wrong, and couldn’t see my problem?” she asked wryly. “Oh, and you also went out of your way to jibe at me, and make me furious.” 

He nodded, shamefaced, glancing down at his feet. “I… yeah.” Drawing in a quick, bolstering breath - and, come on, they were singers, they knew the value of breaths - he met her gaze squarely again and admitted, “I did it, and the selling-you-out thing, too, in part, because I knew you were the kind of person who could _get_ me. Who might care. And the kind of person who I…” 

He swallowed hard, and despite the half-darkness, the red on his cheeks was unmistakable. “The kind of person who I could care about too.” 

Daisy swallowed, too, and her heart did that funny _skipping_ thing again. 

“You couldn’t have that, though,” she said. “Caring about someone means you can lose them.” 

_“Exactly,”_ Deke agreed, his gaze locking onto hers with the fervour of someone who had just been profoundly _understood._ “You _want_ to care about someone, more than anything else, but you can’t _let_ yourself. And you also can’t imagine that anyone would _want_ to care about you.” With a slightly sardonic twist to his mouth, he concluded, “it’s just self-defence.” 

Daisy’s breathing hitched slightly, and she didn’t think she had ever nodded that hard before. That was word-for-word _exactly_ how she had felt before meeting the Shieldton musical gang. 

“You showed me that that’s not true, though,” he said, stepping just slightly into her space and holding her gaze even more fervently. “You, uh… yelled some sense into me?” 

Despite herself, and despite the intensity of the moment, Daisy snorted a laugh.

Deke gave a quick laugh, too, but within a second, his gaze was locked back on hers. “And I need to thank you for that,” he said, simply but so _incredibly_ sincerely. “Because you were _right._ These people _have_ changed my life.” 

“I also still owe you an apology for all the _shit_ I caused you,” he went on. “I was a dick, I really was. But you… they… I’m better now. And I just… _thank_ you, Daisy.” 

For a second, he looked like he might step right in and hug her - but then he remembered himself and stepped back awkwardly, clearing his throat and cringing just slightly.

“So, uh… yeah,” he said a little lamely, fiddling with the zip of his jacket again. “That’s me.” 

He turned away like he was about to walk away, but Daisy stopped him with a gentle hand on his elbow. “Thank you for apologising, Deke,” she said, letting go of his arm to cross her arms in her Ms May stance. But much like Ms May, she channelled all the grudging (but _so_ heartfelt) caring into her very bearing now. 

"And you’re forgiven,” she said simply. 

Deke’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping open a little, but she held up a hand, her lips tugging up in a small grin. _Let me finish, Shaw._

“I know what it's like to crave a family, and never get it,” she explained. “I know what it does to you, inside. And I also know… what it's like to be accepted into the Shieldton High musical family. There's nothing like it. So, uh… welcome to the family." 

Deke's eyes were soft, and she couldn’t even begin to name the multitude of emotions in their expressive grey-green depths. "Thank you." 

And, for the first time she could think of, Daisy Johnson smiled at Deke Shaw with nothing but genuine warmth. “You’re welcome.” 

//

While the rehearsals for the annual Shieldton High musical had definitely taken a turn for the (much) better after The Shouting Incident, there was also one - and very significant - scene that they had never managed to practice. Namely, _scene 42._ Or, in Hallmark terms - _the big damn kiss._

Mr Coulson, thus far, had been avoiding all mention of that scene, not even remotely willing to stir up the hornet’s nest that that would undoubtedly cause between his co-leads - but now there were only two rehearsals left before the big opening night. He _literally_ had no choice.

So, with an expression of what could only be described as acute dread on his face, he gave the instruction to commence scene 42.

But if he had been expecting a massive explosion or another shouting match, he was disappointed. Daisy, in fact, had been _waiting_ for this.

Since their conversation outside the hall a week ago, Daisy had finally allowed herself to admit that, _fine,_ all the little steps in the right direction had built up, and she had most definitely warmed to Deke Shaw. 

In fact (after a _thorough_ grilling by one Jemma Simmons during a girls-night sleepover) she had even admitted, to herself and to her gleeful best friend, that she kinda, maybe, _just a little_ liked the idiot.

And, yeah. She was ready to show him. 

Scene 42 was a repeat of the very first scene of the musical - or, rather, where the scene was supposed to fit in in the first place. And it all went exactly the same as it had then, except that it most definitely did _not_ stop in the middle this time.

After the magical locked-gazes moment (which Daisy definitely pulled off this time, _thank you very much)_ her character half-fell off the windowsill and scrambled down the stairs, flinging open the door and half-sprinting into the garden. 

Halfway to Deke, though, she hesitated, the bad circumstances they had seen each other in last playing clearly across her face…

Then Deke began to sing.

 _I don’t need to hang my stocking,_  
_There upon the fireplace,_  
_Santa Claus won’t make me happy,_  
_With a toy on Christmas Day._

Slowly, cautiously, Daisy’s character started to smile. 

_I just want you for my own,_  
_More than you could ever know,_  
_Make my wish come true,_  
_All I want for Christmas is you,_  
_You, baby._

Daisy (and her character, of course, but she’d be lying if she said it wasn’t at least 67% her) was beaming now, unable to keep the soppy-eyed smile off her face as she looked at Deke. She sang -

 _Oh, I won’t ask for much this Christmas,_  
_I won’t even wish for snow,_  
_I’m just gonna keep on waiting,_  
_Underneath the mistletoe._

Deke gasped, his character’s surprise and amazement at seeing his feelings returned clearly written on his face - but Daisy thought that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t _just_ the character’s feeling she was seeing. 

Maybe he was thinking along the exact same lines as she was.

Either way, he crossed the space between them in two large strides, pulling her into his arms and resting his forehead against hers. They swayed together to the soft tinkles of the music for a moment, letting their characters’ (and their own, if they were being honest) relief and joy play across their faces as they listened to each other’s heartbeats hammering.

Then, tenderly, they sang a final verse of the song together -

 _‘Cause I just want you here tonight_  
_Holding onto me so tight_  
_What more can I do?_  
_Baby, all I want for Christmas… is you!_

And then, in perfect time with the swell of the music, Daisy stretched up on her toes and kissed him, pulling on his jacket to bring him a little closer, right up against her. (The script hadn’t dictated _that,_ but she was _improvising._ And pretty damn well, too, if she did say so herself. _)_

The script also hadn’t dictated the way time slowed down in a totally rom-com way, but for _real,_ when Deke kissed her back - and she knew in that moment with absolute certainty that neither of them were acting. 

When they finally broke apart, it was to a hall filled with cheering and applause, and flurries of costume snowflakes and celebratory confetti twirling down around their heads.

Daisy took Deke’s hand and unashamedly laced their fingers, raising their joined hands high above her head before pulling them both into a deep bow. 

Assorted whoops, whistles and cheers - and a packet of _Jaffa Cakes,_ of all things, which Hunter had thrown at their feet instead of a rose - filled the hall, and Daisy found herself grinning, grinning widely and unstoppably throughout it all. 

Oh, they were going to _ace_ this performance.

_**The End.** _


End file.
